


Hatred

by LotharWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cross-Post, Explicit Language, Hate Crimes, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Transphobia, transphobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-15 04:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12313521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LotharWinchester/pseuds/LotharWinchester
Summary: semi short fic I wrote a while ago about Sam and Dean protecting an OC from a hate crime.





	Hatred

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i don't own any Supernatural content, only my oc. 
> 
> -I wrote this years ago. kind of in response to some verbal BS i had thrown at me. does have triggering content.

“It’s safe to say Kevin isn’t here.” Dean sighed as he wiped the vampire blood out of his hair with a wet towel. 

“Want to head out in the morning?” Sam asked as he ran his fingers through his hair and closed his laptop with his left hand.

Dean nodded and tossed the towel in the bathroom sink he had just finished filling with hydrogen peroxide. 

_I hope that comes out._

* * *

 

With a slight pop of his shoulders, Dean slammed the trunk hood of the Impala closed and glanced around the parking garage. It was easier to leave Baby here instead of the hotel parking lot. Something Sam had brought up about being in a classy hotel while maintaining the cover of discretion.

_“Look it the little Faggot.”_

Dean glanced over at his brother in warning. He had just spent a _very_ long year in Purgatory. It was safe to say his bullshit tolerance was nonexistent.

 _“Oh boo hoo, the little Tranny is crying.”_ Sam’s jaw clenched and gripped the Demon slaying knife slung between his belt loops. _“Fucking He- She.”_

Dean fingered the white Colt pistol positioned at the small of his back.   They should’ve been on the road already but the towel he had used the night before had to be burned and the sink scrubbed so some poor bastard wasn’t infected and turned.

_“You’re not even a man. You’re just a Dyke you sick fuck.”_

Something snapped in Dean’s mind then. Whether he could attribute it to his Purgatory flashbacks or not, he didn’t care.

Sam missed grabbing his arm by mere seconds. He was already in the Fight mode. He snatched his Colt out of the back of his pants and unlocked the safety while he ran. He ignored the voice in the back of his head that tried to tell him to keep a low profile. That discharging a clip would not be the best way to maintain one.

 _“ **Hey!** ”_ Two men looked up at him and froze while three others held their victim against the concrete wall just below the yellow level number. “I’d start running.”

Three had enough common sense to run at the sight of his readied pistol. They stumbled past Sam and continued up to the next level.

“You’re not going to shoot me.”  A ahort man in his early twenties smiled back at him and pulled his own pistol out of his pants. “Drop the gun and leave.”

Dean snorted and smiled at the security camera above him before meeting the man’s gaze. “You wanna bet?”

His left hand man placed his gun on the ground and kicked it towards Dean. He then held his hands up and Sam readied himself with the knife just in case the man turned around and fought back. 

He didn’t, however, and the one remaining man snarled in frustration. It tested Dean’s patience enough that he let off three rounds around the man’s body. The gun dropped from the tormentor’s hands and he fled. Dean left his gun trained on the man until he was out of sight.  Tires squealed on the level above and faded as they drove out the way into the garage.

* * *

 

Sam sighed and watched Dean hide his gun with his shirt and leather jacket before leaving to start the Impala to make a getaway.  Fifteen minutes and counting.

“What’s your name?” Dean asked as he knelt down before the shorter man.

“Aiden.” It was stuttered and he coughed blood out of his mouth. His blue eyes met Dean’s; a soft whimper escaped his throat.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Aiden nodded slightly and winced as he rubbed his forehead.  Dean grasped his upper arm to help him stand.

“How hard did you hit your head?” He asked as Aiden grabbed the front of his jacket to stay steady.

“Slammed it into the concrete a couple of times.” The bleached blond whispered. “one of them pistol whipped me too."

It took Aiden a couple of minutes to slip into the passenger seat. Sam had moved from the driver’s seat to the back seat in order to keep an eye on the reopened head wound. Dean shifted as several  police cars sped past them towards the fading parking garage.

“Hold this to the back of your head.” Sam spoke as he handed Aiden a damp towel. “It’ll keep it clean.”

“Thank you.” He whispered in light of not knowing their names.

Sam seemed to pick up on this and motioned between himself and his brother. “My name is Sam and this is my brother Dean.”


End file.
